A Short Visit
by lacelilies
Summary: Arthur and Alfred stop by Canada's home to talk about serious matters...Canada's maple syrup addiction


Arthur and Alfred exchanged a glance before Arthur stretched out his arm to knock on the door. "Alfred," he whispered, "You aren't good with serious matters, so please let me handle this. I am just as worried about Matthew as you are." Alfred nodded and smiled. "Sure, Artie," he said, not paying attention to how loud he was being, "You're a grumpy old man, so you'd handle something serious way better than I ever could!"

Arthur muttered something along the lines of Alfred being a stupid git. "I'll ignore your snide remarks, this time," he mumbled, "There are more important things to worry about right now."

The door opened slowly, and Matthew poked his head out to see who was at the door. "Hello Arthur," he said, nervously, "Al, what are you doing here? I was not expecting anyone, and it is unlike you, Arthur, to stop by unannounced."

Arthur gave Matthew a fatherly smile and asked if he would let them inside. "It's frightfully cold here, after all," Arthur started, "I know that Alfred has no manners, but I would never expect you to leave guests on the doorstep." Matthew blushed faintly and promptly invited Arthur and Alfred inside his home.

The three men walked into the sitting room, none saying a word. Alfred hopped sprawled out on a couch and smiled at his brother, while Arthur sat down on a very comfortable looking chair. "Matthew," Arthur said sheepishly, "Would I be imposing if I were to ask for a cup of tea?" Matthew shook his head and asked his brother whether he wanted something, since he was going to the kitchen anyway. "I'm cutting back on hamburgers and soda," Alfred said, his smile dropping, "Arthur says that it's an unhealthy addic-." Arthur shot Alfred a look and he quickly tried to fix the situation. "Um, I'll have some tea, too," Alfred said quickly, "With about twice the sugar that you put in Artie's tea!"

Matthew smiled and excused himself from the room, walking quietly to the kitchen. Arthur looked over to Alfred and grumbled. "Honestly, Alfred!" he exclaimed, "How could you be so insensitive? It is still a sore topic, and you spoke so nonchalantly about it! Matthew just got out of rehabilitation, after all!"

Alfred rolled his eyes and apoligised halfheartedly to Arthur. "It sorta slipped out. I mean to, Artie! Don't you think that I'd do something that mean on purpose?" he said, "I'm the hero, and it's not a very heroic thing to do that on purpose, duh."

Matthew walked back into the room after some time, and set down the teacups on their saucers in front of Arthur and Alfred. He sighed quietly and forced a smile. "I know why you two are here," he said, sitting down and taking his teacup and saucer in his hands, "I really am happy that you worry so much about me, but I'm doing well."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his tea. "It has a very delicate flavour, you certainly have good taste, Matthew," he said, "It is only natural for me to worry about you; I've known you since you were so young. Sometimes I forget that you and Alfred have grown up. I feel like I should have done something more for you, and I know that I was never around as much as I would have liked."  
Alfred saw this as the opportune moment to chime in with his opinion. He stopped himself from saying something idiotic, and actually took the time to think over his words. "Mattie, I'm here for you. It must have been hard, going through rehab for your...maple syrup addiction," he said, forcing himself not to laugh, "Do you want to stay at my place for a while?"

Matthew forced a weak smile and shook his head. He had always hated how much his brother looked down on him. "He isn't saying it because he really cares," Matthew thought, "It's only because it's the appropriate thing to do." He sat down across from Arthur, observing his former caretaker sipping his tea. It reminded him of his childhood, and even though he had hated Arthur at first, he had grown fond of him.

Arthur looked over at Matthew, meeting his violet gaze, and smiled nervously. "Matthew," he said, quietly, "You should tell Francis that you're doing well. He's been a bundle of nerves for the past few weeks." Arthur cringed slightly at the thought. The previous evening, Francis had turned up on Arthur's doorstep, drunk and sobbing.

"_Mon petit Canada, je suis désol_é_ ! __What did I do wrong? What should I have done? Should I have seen this coming? Angleterre, you are going __avec l'Amérique__ to see my Mathieu tomorrow, non? Take me with you, you must! I must be the worst father in the world."_

Shortly after, the frog passed out, on Arthur's sofa, no less! It was enough of a hassle for Arthur to deal with an idiot like Alfred, but taking Francis would have been a disaster. As soon as it was morning, he left his home, careful not to make any loud noises. "Damn frog is going to have one hell of a hangover," he thought, "I'll be civil with him, just this once."

Matthew's eyes widened slightly. Had he heard Arthur correctly? _Is_ _Papa is worried about me? __Pas vraiment ! Il me déteste, parce que l'Angleterre…_

Matthew composed himself, crossing his legs while folding his hands on his lap. "I'll be sure to speak with him. Are you sure that he's really that concerned for me?" he said, regretting his last statement as soon as he said it. He looked at Arthur, and then met Al's eyes, smiling gently. "Never mind, I know that Papa must be worried about me. It is only natural, just like having the two of you worry over me. I'm sorry," he said.

* * *

Arthur snapped back into consciousness. His Union Flag print comforter was tossed to one side of his bed, and the first thing that came to mind was the throbbing headache that made itself known. He must have taken a trip to the local pub the night before, because he couldn't recall how he had gotten home after the days' work.

He did remember, however, that he had a strange dream. What had he been dreaming about? Oh, something about Matthew-

He sat up, and then stumbled out of bed to his dresser, pulling open one of the drawers. "Cor blimey," he said, grabbing a shirt, "I really need to stop drinking."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Just a short crack fic that I wrote...maybe Iggy's subconscious really is trying to tell him something.

I remembered talking about Canada possibly having a maple syrup addiction and, voila! I kinda wanted to make a serious fic, but the idea was too absurd for me to stick with it.

Also, if the French is wrong, I'm sorry. It's kinda been a while for me. Corrections would be appreciated!

Tell me what you think! Thanks!


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